Why So Serious?
by Anarchy Terriss
Summary: AU Deathly Hallows. Hermione Granger dies at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, and Ron weasley decides that some payback is in order... of a most hilarious kind...
1. Birth

Ronald Weasley was about to die.

Not physically, of course, but mentally. Hermione, his love, the girl he would quite happily have died for, happily have taken the place of, had a knife at her throat; a knife being held by one of the most unpleasant people in the universe.

He didn't know how it happened, how one minute they could be about to rescue Hermione and the next Lestrange could have them in a position where they were dropping their wands. All he knew was, she had them by the balls.

"Good," Lestrange smiled. Then she looked at Hermione, who was struggling slightly, and smiled. "Why so serious, Mudblood? Don't you like this?"

Hermione struggled even more, but Bellatrix :Lestrange held her even tighter, and leant down to whisper in her ear.

"Why don't we put a smile on your face…?"

The knife was up before Ron could move, but he went fast enough to punch Bellatrix and send her flying across the room. But upon Hermione's face was a carved grin, from one side to the other, and her throat was slashed. Ron looked down at her in shock as the blood drained out of her – his eyes met hers, and then she stopped.

He blinked. Harry was yelling. Someone was grabbing his hand – he grabbed Hermione and then, suddenly, they were away from Malfoy Manor, in a garden, at night.

She was dead.

He hadn't even let himself admit to her how much he had cared for her, and now here she was, dead. Dead. Gone. Never coming back. Dead. Left him. Destroyed. Tarnished. Marred. Mutilated.

A smile carved on her face.

Somehow, even as Bill and Fleur came and Fleur used a charm that healed the wounds, and they moved her inside… he could still see that smile.

--

Ron wasn't talking. He wasn't speaking to _anyone._ Bill couldn't get him to move from the armchair where he had deposited himself, head in hands. No one could get him to talk. He was pale, and shaking, wracked with silent sobs, but he hadn't cried, hadn't moved, hadn't done a damn thing.

Finally, Harry could take it no longer.

"Ron," he said. "Ron, look at me."

Ron didn't move.

"Ron," Harry said, simply. "I'm sorry she's dead, I truly am, but we can't help her. The best thing you can do is…"

He broke off as Ron raised his head. Harry blinked in shock, and Luna, Bill, Fleur and Dean all gazed at the countenance of Ronald Bilius Weasley, unsure of what to think.

He hadn't been sobbing.

He had been _laughing._ His mouth was split open in silent hilarity, grinning at them all and shaking with suppressed noise that he suddenly let out in a torrent of high pitched insane mirth.

"Ron!" Bill yelled. "What the…?!"

Ron got up, danced over to Bill and grabbed his arm, spun him around and danced across the room. He then ran up to Luna, hugged her, and plated a kiss upon her face, and then he laughed some more.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Dean yelled at him. Ron stopped laughing, looked at Dean with an incredulous expression, then his grin returned.

"Life," he said, simply," is hilarious."

A moment later, he had walked out of the building and Dissapparated.

"He can't be thinking clearly," Harry said after a moment. "He's unhinged."

"It happens sometimes," Luna replied, with a slight smile. "When my mother died, I did much the same thing."

"What a time to go mad," Bill said. "I'd better go after him."

"Where do you reckon he went?" Dean asked.

Bill blinked, and paused for a good minute, before looking at the door his little brother had run out of.

"Actually," he admitted after a moment, "I have no idea…"

--

Ron felt good. No, he felt better. He was out with a purpose, a mission, a reason to exist.

He was going to kill Bellatrix Lestrange.

And then he was gonna kill Malfoy Senior, and Malfoy Junior, and then maybe Mrs Malfoy, and then Mr Lestrange and his brother… and then maybe Dolohov and Mulciber… and Snape, definitely Snape.

Hell with it, he might as well kill all the Death Eaters.

And You-Know-Who while he was at it.

He had been listening to his friends and brother talk while he had been laughing at the insanity of the world, and knew that Fred and George were at Muriels… so…

He knocked on the door, and was surprised when Ginny answered it. The look she gave him said that the Shell Cottage residents had told them about him.

Good.

"Uh, hi, Ron…" she said. "Uh…"

"Let me in, Gin," Ron advised her, with an unsettling smile. "The mood I'm in, you'd be a fool not to."

She did, and to his own great (lack of) surprise, the twins and his Father were there to meet him.

"Hiya guys," he said to Fred and George, putting on a showy American accent. "I was hoping to run into you.

"We were hoping to run into you, Ron," his Father said. "We need to talk…"

"Well, talk, Dad," Ron smiled at him. "Talk and talk and talk all you want. I need things."

He focused his gaze on Fred and George.

"Destructive things," he added.

"Well you ain't gettin' 'em from us," Fred said immediately.

"Yeah, we know you're a bit upset Ronnie boy," George added.

"… but you goin' off and doin' some damage isn't gonna help anyone," Fred finished.

"I dunno," Ron smiled. "Might be funny."

Mr Weasley put his hand on Ron's shoulder, and spoke softly, in a low voice.

"Ron, perhaps you'd better…"

It happened in a flash; Ron grabbed his Father's hand, twisted his arm, and put his mouth against his Dad's ear.

"You help me… or I go out there and do what I'm going to _anyway_," Ron said. "Pick one, Daddy Dearest."

Fred and George moved to help but Mr Weasley held up his hand.

"No!" he said. "No… Alright, Ron, we'll help."

Ron let up immediately, but then his Father had his wand out and then…

--

He woke up with a shot. His head felt clearer than it had the night before, he felt rested and – it was morning.

That explained it.

He blinked, breathed, and sat up – he was in pyjamas. He smiled. He liked pyjamas.

He grabbed his borrowed wand, which thoughtfully had been left where he could find it, went downstairs. His family, to his great (lack of) surprise, were there, looking worried, but not that angry. Good.

"Hello, everyone," he said, and he smiled – a warm smile, a friendly smile, not the deranged rictus he had worn last night. They all breathed a collective sigh of relief that it took all of his willpower to not point out.

"Are you… alright, Ronnie?" his mother asked him. He looked at her, and kept the smile on his face .He nodded.

"Oh yes," he said. "I feel fine. Better than new. Better than ever."

Ginny was looking at him oddly. Had they noticed yet, he wondered? The stilted speech? Did they know him that well?

Did they hell-as-like. Ginny seemed to know there was something wrong, but then she wouldn't say anything. No, they wouldn't notice. Until he told them.

"Are you… are you alright about… what happened?" his father asked.

Ha.

Rich.

"Alright?" he said slowly. "Yes, I'm alright about what happened."

They all smiled.

"You all fucking turned on me and betrayed me is what happened. No problems getting that part."

The smiles vanished like a shot. His mother looked about to burst into tears, and he smiled again, the rictus returning. "Not, mind, that I blame you – only acting as responsible, naturally concerned parents usually do – what that says about parents in general, I haven't got a clue, but the thing is you see… and I'm not sure if this makes any sense," he pointed out, shrugging, "but you've taught me a lesson. What you did was an attempt at _order_ – you suppressed me, what I wanted, what I desired, because it was _anarchic_ – I desired _destruction –_ I _still_ desire destruction. Only, with your lesson you see, you have given me the chance to… expand my targets slightly."

They looked terrified out of their minds at his words, which he didn't even half know the source of, but he loved, understood and agreed with. Then again, he was the one saying them.

They looked like they didn't know him.

Good.

As far as he was concerned, they never had. A lifetime of being number six, the least likely to matter, to be important or to achieve anything worth shouting about, meant that, no, no one really had. Apart from Hermione and Harry.

Soon, though, people would shout.

"My targets," he continued at them, "originally, were the entire bunch of Death Eaters, maybe even You Know Who himself – but…" and here he held up his finger at his Mother, who looked ready to interrupt, "I have decided that _society_ – _our_ society,created this man and his ideals and that _you_ stopped me because of ideals that this self same society put upon you and – hell, that sounds too intellectual and I've never been intellectual," he grinned. "Suffice it to say, family, I'm gonna destroy – _everything_. And make you watch."

He grinned as his family looked at him, unsure as to what to say.

"We'll start with the obvious shall we?" Ron added, walking over to the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the rack and then looking at them all with a grin. "_Voldemort._"

All at once, three figures materialised in the hall, as the family shouted and the wands came out – and Ron Weasley walked up to the first Death Eater – ooh, goody it looked like Fenrir Greyback – and plunged a knife in the back of the bastards neck.

Greyback arched into the impact of the knife – ooh, it really _was_Greyback – and Ron smiled his rictus at him.

"Hiya Wolfy boy," he said. "How you doin'?"

The Werewolf looked at him with shock in his eyes, and then Ron pulled the knife out and held it up, a flash of inspiration striking him. The look on Greyback's face was priceless – all anger and concern, even as his lifeblood seeped out and he lost consciousness – and he was _still standing_, wow, how resilient… and Ron grabbed his head, put the knife to his left cheek, and widened the grin.

"Oh, why so grim, wolfy boy?" he asked. "There's nothing like a smile. Let me give you one."

He laughed as Greyback screamed.

--

When the Death Eaters were dead and they had to organize how to get out of there, Ginny took a brief look at Greyback's corpse – Ron had vanished as soon as Greyback had expired; and screamed.

There was a carved smile upon its face.

--

In Sirius Black's old home, Ronald Weasley looked the ensemble he was wearing up and down.

Shirt with a hexagonal pattern across it. Black-with-white-pinstripe waistcoat, similar suit and long black coat.

"Nice," he said aloud, "but it needs something."

He was going to bring anarchy to these people – what would they need for that?

Then he remembered the old maxim.

_Laughter is the best medicine._

It had certainly worked for him. He grinned as he realised what he needed. He tried vaguely to remember the spell for altering colour, then opened his eyes and snapped his fingers theatrically – of course!

"_Muto!_" he said, waving the borrowed wand, and the clothes changed – the shirt he liked, but the waistcoat became a vivid green, and the suit became purple with pinstripe, and the coat plain purple.

He looked at it, and yet something was missing – ah yes.,

His face. He looked at it, and dropped the grin for a second – if he even dropped it for a second, it looked… normal.

That would not do.

He spent three seconds considering possibilities, but really, there was only one possibility to consider.

He took the knife out of his pocket, the knife he would keep with him from now on, and he looked at the serious, grim looking reflection that just… wasn't him anymore.

"Why so serious, Ronnie?" he asked. He took the knife, and he cut.

--


	2. Naming

Where to begin, where to begin…? Oh there were so many things he could do, but first; a little something called supplies. Muggle weaponry, while crude, might just prove effective – besides which, he could hardly walk into his brothers joke shop, even if it had still been running.

Even after he had gained the weapons, what then? How best to start? What to do? How to send his message to the world…?

The wizarding world…?

The heart of the wizarding world was… the Ministry… and that sick bitch Umbridge and that fucking statue…

Ah yes.

Message written.

The last touch to his face was the makeup – normally he wouldn't have considered it, but normality had gone out of the window somewhat recently.

--

"Visitor to the Ministry, please state your name and the purpose of your visit."

"Ron Weasley. Interior Designer, here to do some remodelling."

"Thank you. Visitor to the Ministry, please attach your badge to the front of your robes…"

"Yeah, yeah," the figure in the elevator sighed as it went down. "Get on with it."

He grabbed the badge when it came, and stuffed it in his pocket.

The lift eventually ended up in the atrium, where Ron could see the large statue depicting 'Magic Is Might.' He smiled as people stared at his made up face and Glasgow smile, but – to business – he went straight up to the statue. He looked it over, walked all around it, then held up his thumb, artist style, to get a good look at it. Some people walked past him, and actively stared, and he gave them the thumbs up, and a smile, which sent them walking faster. Then he carefully took his wand out, aimed it at the wizards head, and smiled.

"_Reducto_!" he yelled, and the head of the statue blew off, crashing amongst the Ministry workers and causing more than a few screams. Ron smiled, and aimed his wand again, this time at the woman's head. He paused, and looked at the people who were staring at him in shock.

"I'm redecorating," he said, putting on his low American voice for disguise purposes. He then aimed his wand at the woman's head again, and the same thing happened.

At this point, several burly looking men ran over, looking for the source of the spells, only to see him; Ron briefly considered what he must look like to these people; purple suit and coat, patterned shirt, bright green waistcoat; Christ, he must look a right nutter.

Good.

"Hiya, fellas," he said to the security men. "What's up?"

"Who the hell are you, some kind of clown?" one of them asked. Ron shrugged.

"I'm just having fun," he smiled. "How about you?"

"Enough of this," one of the men snarled. He pointed his wand at Ron. "_Stupefy!_"

Ron whipped out his own wand and blocked the spell, before grinning.

"Formalities, boys!" he said, loudly. "Don't want to think that You Know Who's prime thugs don't know the way things oughta be done!"

He whipped his wand vertically in front of his face, then in a flowing motion moved it to his side and bowed, before assuming a stance. The security men looked at each other, giving Ron the chance to run right at them, whip out his knife, and ram it in one of their chests.

"Gotcha!" he yelled. The Security man stared at his chest, transfizxed, before dropping dead. Ron ducked, grabbed his knife, plucked it out, and then, in a flash, another security man was down ,clutching at his sliced throat. Then they started moving.

Spells flew here and there, red and blue sparks flowing, but Ron was in his element – his knife flashed like a living eye, killing here and there and everywhere… and his wand sent men flying across the room… civilians were running away hither and thither…

And then they were all on the floor, dead or injured.

"What the hell…?" a familiar voice said, and Ron turned, to look at Percy Weasley, who seemed very much terrified.

"Hiya, Perce," he said, walking up to him. Percy went for his wand, but Ron disarmed him with a gesture of his own. "No need for fighting, we're all relations here…"

Percy took a good look at Ron's mutilated face, and blinked.

"Ron?" he asked. "Is that… you?"

"No, I'm Santa Claus," Ron drawled. "Of course it's me. Who did you think it was?"

"To be honest," Percy said, backing away, "I had no idea…"

A shrill, prim voice cut across them.

"What's going on in here?!" it shouted. "Why are there bits of rubble lying all over the place… what the hell happened…?"

Dolores Umbridge walked into Ron Weasley's sights, in a horrid pink cardigan and ugly blouse.

"Who are you?!" she yelled shrilly at him. He smiled. "What's wrong with your face?!"

Percy gave Ron a look of utmost horror, but Ron was already moving towards Umbridge. She seemed to realise what he was going to do because she went for his wand – but he disarmed her.

"Do you want to know why I have these scars, Madam Umbridge?" he asked, raising his wand menacingly. "To be honest, it was my friends fault. See, she was what you call a Mudblood, and some bastard- bitch, actually," he amended, "although calling her a woman is like calling you Know Who a man – any way, this woman decided to murder her. In front of me. With a knife. Gave her scars just like this," he indicated his own. "So I decided to take revenge, and in order to do that, I had to do this to myself."

"You are insane," Umbridge told him.

"Oh undoubtedly," Ron smiled. "I'd have to be, to be what I am."

"You kill all these upstanding people," Umbridge continued, "over some Mudblood whore…?"

Ron rammed the point of his wand under her chin.

"Fine upstanding people?" he snarled, practically spitting in her face in rage. "Oh yeah, sure. Fine, upstanding people. Of course. But then, you don't have a normal persons view of what fine upstanding people are like, do you, Del?"

He held up his knife, and placed it against her cheek; but then, he stopped, and pulled it away.

"You do not deserve a smile," he said at last. He turned away from her, and she sighed in relief. Then he span around, aimed the wand at her, and shouted _"Avada Kedavra!"_ and she dropped down dead.

"Doesn't mean you deserved to live," he told the corpse. He turned around, and walked out towards the exit. Percy followed him, shock all over his face.

"How… why… what…?" he spluttered.

"Percy," Ron said, "I want you to go to Shell Cottage where the family is," Ron said, "and I want you to tell the family a few things. One; what has happened here today. Two; who perpetrated it. And three," and here he leant in close to his brothers face, and gave the unsettling smile. "That ickle Ronnie Weasley is dead, gone, and never ever coming back."

"Then…" Percy asked, as his little brother turned away and walked from his brother, "what does that make you?"

The man who had been Ron Weasley turned around, the unsettling smile back in full.

"I'm the Joker," he said. "The Clown Prince of Anarchy. And I'm sending my message."


	3. The Heist: Part I

For weeks after that, the Joker walked in plain sight, a vagrant in a shoddy suit, purple and made-up to look like a clown. Nobody in Diagon Alley gave him a second glance; there were so many weirdoes there it hardly mattered. Knockturn was even better, because they still didn't give him a second glance, but they did sell him crap without him having to prove his age. This was a nice plus for him.

As time went on, he had to think; what was he? The answer came readily; he was a clown. But more than that, he was an artist. An artist… of death.

Oh, how over melodramatic…

The anarchist message he wanted to send was still in the early stages. He didn't know what to do, or how to do it. He had the weapons (a bunch of Irish Uber-nationalists had given him a few bombs and a whole bunch of machine guns) but what to do with them?

_'Who knew being an anarchist terrorist was so difficult?' _he thought, but then; '_Stop.'_

There she was.

Bellatrix Lestrange, on her own, talking to Travers; he recognised the face of the man, and the woman was etched into his memories forever as the woman who had kick started his crusade.

He didn't know whether to kiss her or kill her.

Hell, he'd just do both.

"Oh, too marvellous," he smiled softly to himself. He wandered over to the two of them, casually, but, unfortunately, Travers was sharper than he had expected, and saw him.

"Hey, you," he said, "who are you?"

The Joker smiled at him, and then in a flash, he whipped his knife across the man's throat and dropped a gas grenade, grabbing Lestrange in the process.

"Come here, you," he snarled, and he held a knife to her throat. He dragged her down Knockturn Alley, and then rammed her into a wall. He stared at the heavy lidded, haunted, gaunt face for a good minute, frozen in indecision.

Kill her. Just like that, the woman who killed Hermione will be gone. Why was he even hesitating?

But… there was something in her expression. Something… odd…

He was distracted from his thoughts by someone punching him in the kisser. He staggered back, and, to his own astonishment, a fist appeared out of nowhere. Before he knew it, his grin had returned, and her stared at the fist.

"#Who do I know who has an Invisibility Cloak," he sing songed. "Oh _I_ know! Hey, Harry."

A moment later, Harry had revealed himself, briefly, to glare at the Joker who merely smiled serenely at him, and then he vanished underneath the cloak again. The Joker smiled still more broadly and turned to Lestrange.

"And either yer lady friend is Imperiused or she isn't Bella Lugosi," he added, nodding at the Bellatrix impersonator, who smiled; a smile that wasn't directed at cruelty or suffering; so, obviously, it had to be…

"It's Luna," Harry said from underneath the cloak.

"Ah," the Joker smiled. "So, what're you two doing here?"

"Why should we tell you?" Harry's voice asked accusatorily.

"Well," the Joker said, "apart from me being one of your best friends, and one of the best causes of anarchy in the world, and also a fantastic person to know in a scrap…"

"Why is that good?" Harry asked.

"I can help you," the Joker said bluntly, the smile fading. "Unless you'd rather go through with the most ridiculous plan in history which, from where I'm standing, seems to rely on nobody noticing that Luna isn't Bella Lestrange when I couldn't imagine a more different person to Lestrange in the world."

He looked at Luna, who smiled serenely; an odd thing to see on the face of Bellatrix Lestrange, then back to where Harry presumably was.

And he saw a Death Eater walking down the road from Diagon Alley, wand out, aimed right at him.

"Madam Lestrange!" the Death Eater said. "Stand back from this maniac!"

The Joker raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Luna, who looked as serene as ever.

"Huh," he said, smiling. The Death Eater had his hood up, but the voice was young, and familiar. "You wouldn't happen to be a guy called Flint, would you?"

The Death Eater seemed to be hesitating, but he kept his wand raised.

"Oh c'mon," the Joker smiled. "You're a Death Eater, I should be afraid of you, why not tell me your name. What's the worst that's going to happen…?!"

"Shut up!" the Death Eater yelled. "Who I am doesn't concern you – you murdered a Death Eater and kidnapped another one – that'll get you the Dementors…!"

"Huh," the Joker laughed. "I'm so scared. Look at me, being scared." He held up his hands and put on a comedy 'scared' face.

"You're under arrest," the Death Eater – who definitely was Flint, from the voice – said, and the Joker grimaced.

"You should be glad you aren't in the comedy business," he said, the grimace turning into a grin, as he began edging towards the Death Eater. "Here's a good joke. Man goes crazy, kills a bunch of people, becomes totally psychotic, and totally unstoppable – and a little boy threatens him, thinking to scare him."

There was a long pause, while the Death Eater considered this.

"How is that funny?" he asked at last, defeated.

"It's funny, because what idiot thinks that he can scare a man like me?" the Joker said, edging still closer. Then, suddenly, he pointed up the alley with a look of shock. "Look – Harry Potter!"

The Death Eater turned, and the Joker ran at him, rammed his knife into the man's back, and laughed.

"They _always_ fall for that one!" he laughed. He ripped of the Death Eaters mask – and it wasn't Flint. "Damn!"

He dropped the corpse and looked back to Luna, who was staring at him. He shrugged comically.

"Can't get 'em all right," he said. She laughed. Harry revealed his head, and frowned at him.

"You said you could help," he said.

"Right, that I did," the Joker acknowledged. "Now, let me guess; you planned to subtly break in to Gringotts for some reason –"

"Lestrange's vault has a Horcrux in it," Harry said at once.

"Huh," the Joker grunted. "So you go there and… what? Walk in, get the cup, walk out?"

Harry and Luna looked at each other.

"That was the general plan, yes," Luna said, turning back to the Joker, who looked at them, then sighed.

"Typical you, Harry," he said. "Dull as sin. Tell you what, though," he smiled. "I have a much _better_ idea…"


	4. The Heist: Part II

Gringotts was home to a wide variety of different things, and a wide variety of different people walked through its doors every single day. So at first, when the three people walked into the entrance lobby, nobody paid them the slightest bit of attention.

Then the leader, the one in the purple suit, pulled out a long metal object rather like a metal wand, aimed it at the ceiling, and pulled a trigger. A loud **bang** echoed through the lobby, and it was then that everyone paid attention to these people.

The leader was in a long purple coat, purple suit, and green waistcoat. His face was scarred at the cheeks in a way horribly reminiscent of a distended grin, and covered in clown makeup that didn't look in the least bit funny. A second man wore a blue suit, white shirt and smart black tie, similar makeup, but lacked the scars; he looked distinctly uncomfortable. One notable thing was that this man wore glasses. The third figure was a woman – no, more like a girl – with long blonde hair; she looked more comfortable than the man with glasses but, like him, lacked the scars. She wore a thin jumpsuit that was quartered off; red and black. She had a large hat on, and similar makeup to the other two; she was also smiling, unlike the man with glasses. All three wielded the metal wands, the men small ones, and the girl one that she had to hold in both hands, although only the purple-suited man looked remotely comfortable with his weapon. Near them was a Goblin, who wore none of the affectations, but nonetheless looked uncomfortable; Griphook, their accomplice.

"Right then," the Joker said, looking around. "Your attention, please. Although the sign says, _'thief you have been warned, beware'_, I thought I'd give it a go anyway; 'cos, you know, there's gotta be a first time for everything, huh?"

A couple of security wizards moved to attack the Joker, who calmly drew out a different gun – an Uzi – and blew them away.

"And who says Muggles are good for nothing?!" he yelled. "That's what happens to anyone who tries anything! Right then, so…" he turned to Harry and Luna (whom he had codenamed Harlequin and Chuckles for the duration of the operation).

"Harley," he said. "Keep these nice people covered. Chuckles – you know what you're doing. I'm going to have a nice little look at all the Death Eater vaults – see if I can get me anything good…"

--

Thirty minutes later, the Joker came back with three sacks of gold and silver, and nodded at 'Chuckles' who held a Golden Cup and – per the Joker's instructions – an array of other valuables. 'Harley' had her gun aimed at the crowd, who looked suitably terrified.

"Christ," the Joker cursed. "Isn't this place meant to be _difficult_ to rob?!"

"Yes," Griphook snarled. "Now…" the Goblin looked at 'Chuckles'. "My payment?"

'Chuckles' drew out the sword of Gryffindor, and looked about to hand it over, albeit reluctantly, but the Joker held up a hand.

"Nah," he said. "You want payment, Goblin boy?"

"Obviously," the Goblin said, looking mildly annoyed.

"Huh," the Joker said, and then he gave an exaggerated smile to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, the two rules of being the Joker; one, trust no one. Two…"

He shot Griphook, and then proceeded to empty both his pistol and his Uzi into him.

"If anyone asks for payment, cap 'em at the earliest opportunity," the Joker finished, holstering his guns and moving to get his sacks of gold…

Except that 'Chuckles' was aiming his wand at him.

"Hmmm," he said, looking at the stick in distaste. "I'm sensing hostility."

"Griphook was on our side!" Harry yelled. "And you murdered him!"

"In case you haven't noticed friend," the Joker said, looking steadily more murderous, "that's kinda what I do, what I am now."

"You've become a monster," Harry snarled in his face. The Joker narrowed his eyes at him, then drew his own wand out and – zapped a man who had been moving towards them, slowly.

"Harley," he said, "would it be too much to ask you to watch those idiots while the big boys argue?"

Luna blinked, then switched her gaze to the crowd. Harry narrowed his eyes.

"I'm as upset as you were about Hermione," Harry began…

"No, you thought you were," the Joker snapped. "But obviously you weren't. I mean, look who is wearing make – actually, no, that doesn't work," he amended with a smile. "But look who has the scars and the weapons. Me. Not you, Mr I-cared-as-much-as-you-did. I loved her," he snarled in Harry's face, his voice slipping for a moment back into old Ron-accent. "I loved her and that bitch Lestrange murdered her in front of me, and no on – _no one _– would help me get my revenge, and I know why, Harry. This society has created all of these pure blood maniacs…"

"Harry?" a voice said, and an oldish man who had a short, grizzled white beard looked at 'Chuckles.' "He's Harry Pot -?"

He fell dead with a flash of green light.

"DON'T INTERRUPT ME!!" Ron yelled. "Our society created these monsters Harry. Created them and nurtured them and let them _believe_ that they were right, when in fact they all should have been put down ages ago. Thanks to them, our society is rotten to the core."

Then Ron vanished, and the Joker was ascendant.

"You just don't get it, do ya?" he finished. "It isn't about Hermione anymore. It's about sending a message. This society is wrong. It has to see…"

He tailed off, and then turned away from Harry without a second thought, grabbed his bags of gold, and walked out. Harry looked at Luna, who looked at the crowds, and then, dropping the sacks he had carried, and carrying only the cups, he walked out too. Luna looked at the sacks, then at the crowd, and she smiled at them. She aimed her assault rifle and emptied it into the crowd, before grabbing the fallen sacks and running after Harry.


	5. The Tortured Clown

In the darkness of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, a man lay on a sofa, twisting and turning in agonies only he could truly understand…

The Joker had washed the makeup off for the night, so that the scars he had never fixed, only cleaned, were pale and dead looking on his skin. His hair was back to its natural red. He wore the same suit, but on him it looked strange, like half a costume.

He hated needing to sleep, but sometimes it was necessary to; one couldn't plan the downfall of society without resting once in a while.

--

In his dreams, he was normal again, Ron again, dancing with Hermione at the Yule Ball, happy. He wore the suit he had changed, only it was black and grey, its original colours, normal. All around them were their friends, their family, Ron's parents, his brothers, sister, the DA, the Quidditch team, all of those people – and Harry was with Ginny; all was well in the world.

He was happy here; all the things that tortured him were far away. There was no war. There was no upset. Just him and her and the enchanted roof that showed a sky…

"Well," a gruff, American-accented voice cut in. "Isn't this a lovely picture?!"

Ron snapped his head to look at the speaker, and found himself facing the Joker, who laughed at him, Luna Lovegood in her Harlequin gear on one side and Harry as Chuckles on the other. All his relations seemed to shrink away beyond the boundaries of the walls and when he turned to look at Hermione, she was grey, red scars on her cheeks and a slash across her throat. He stumbled away from her, and she smiled.

"What's the matter Ronnie?" the Joker asked, laughing. "Why so _serious_…?"

He turned and ran away from them, into Hogwarts… where every portrait was dead, the same sliced grin on their faces. Every person he saw had the same makeup on, the same smile.

"No!" he yelled in terror. "NO!!"

"This is what you make of yourself," someone said, and he turned to see Dumbledore, and they were both at the top of the highest tower from which Harry had said the old man had fallen, and the Professor was smiling at him – no makeup upon his face. "You have styled yourself a clown prince of Chaos, a monster… did no one tell you Ronald," he finished, turning away from the tortured man, "that the monsters have nightmares too…?"

And he jumped from the roof, to his destiny. Ron screamed, and ran away, down the stairs, only to run into Ginny, who stood in shadows.

"I look up to you," she said, her tone accusatory. "You were the one who knew the most what I was feeling, who was meant to protect me…"

She stepped out from the shadows, her face marked with the same scars and makeup he wore.

"HOW CAN I LOOK UP TO YOU NOW?!?!" she screamed at him. He yelled incoherently and turned away again, only to find himself facing his parents. They stood side by side, both shaking their heads in disappointment. He turned away from them, too, only for Fred and George to stare at him.

"Clown prince of anarchy, he calls himself," Fred said.

"Arrogant toerag," George added.

"Lost it," Fred sighed, smiling, touching his temple.

"Mental," George grinned.

And then… _he_ came. The Joker stepped between the twins, who dutifully bowed their heads and vanished into nothingness, and the clown Prince smiled at him.

"Don't listen to the, Ronnie boy," he said. "We've got something. We're onto something. We're _right_. That's the important thing."

And then he aimed a gun at Ron's head.

"Isn't that all that matters?" the Joker finished, and the gun fired, smashing the mirror that Ron was looking into…

--

Ron woke up with a shot, slicked with sweat, panting. He blinked and tried to remember something, something that seemed so very far away…

What had he done…? What had he allowed himself to become? He steadied his breathing, and got up, before walking over to the bathroom, and looking himself square in the mirror. He studied the scars, the uneven grin he had given himself, and for a long moment he forgot why it was there.

And then the pain of her death crashed down upon him, silencing the voices that asked why, told him to stop before he couldn't stop.

Still, he thought, he owed his family a letter at least. He might have no Owl, but it would be a simple thing to disguise himself and buy one. He grabbed a piece of paper, a quill and an ink bottle, and sat down. He thought for a moment.

He began to write.

_Dear family (apologies for not personalising, but there really isn't time and I have an absolute blinder to play tomorrow that'll go down in history; watch out for it!)_

_Just to let you know; I'm alive, safe (if Harry hasn't told you, which he might not have, knowing my luck). I haven't killed Bella Lestrange yet, but believe me I'm working on it._

_Met some nice people a week ago; Irish Nationalists, real extreme guys, but good drinkers; never heard of Firewhiskey (Muggles, huh?) but they could sure handle their Stout. Anyway, they've given me all the stuff I need to do my thing, so I won't be bothering Fred and George (to be honest, the stuff they sell isn't destructive enough for me anyway!), so you can stop worrying on that account. I have very little else I can tell you, but if you get the chance to respond, I want some feedback about the Ministry incident (letters addressed to 'The Joker' please). _

_Hope to see you soon (although you might not share that particular one). _

_All my love._

_Ron._

_The Joker._

_Clown Prince of Anarchy._

He finished the letter with a flourish and a stylised smile logo that he came up with on the spot, and then put it in his pocket. Yeah, why not send it tomorrow, he had enough gold to buy an Owl.

He went back to the mirror and looked at himself again. The smile seemed to say, _go on. Keep it going. You're doing fine._

He was.

He went back to his sofa, and was soon fast asleep again.


	6. Catching a Train

The next morning, a man in a black suit bought an Owl at a shady place in Knockturn Alley. He attached a letter to its leg, and sent it on its way. He smiled as it went; the scars on his face stood out especially a pale flesh colour, and then clapped his hands together,

To business. He had a train to catch - sort of.

--

The Hogwarts Express lay in wait for the next year, when a whole load of students would get it and go to Hogwarts to be taught – well, to be taught the bullshit that created Dark Lords.

The Joker laughed slightly as he looked at the ancient train. He loved the machine in some ways, he was used to its continued existence – but on the other hand, he had _never_ blown up a train…

Walking around him were a few crazy people he'd picked up in Knockturn and convinced top come with him. They all had the makeup, but apart from that, they were dressed normally. Only he dared to be different.

He held his wand to his throat, muttered "_sonorous_" and then said, in his Joker voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen!"

There were only a few people there, so the effect was somewhat lost, which annoyed the Joker slightly, but he lived with it.

"We are the entertainment for today!" he said. "And what's more entertaining than something blowing up?! Smiley…" he motioned to one of his crew, who obediently started planting charges. A couple of people ran at him, but he drew out his six-shooter and blew them away. He sighed.

"this place needs a better quality of guard," he muttered. And then, as if by – well, magic, there was a scream from behind him, and one of his crew flew across the platform over his head to land in an undignified heap.

And Bellatrix Lestrange held herself in the exact same stance she had when she killed Sirius Black. The Joker stared at her in shock for a good long moment, and then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

"Bella Lugosi!" he shouted. "How wonderful to see you…"

She aimed her wand at him, and he ducked a green light that hit Smiley right in the kisser, sending him collapsing to the floor. The Joker didn't bat an eyelid, instead aiming his own wand and happily sending curse after curse her way.

"So _unoriginal!_" he chided her, as he sent a Killing curse her way. She ducked and started her old baby talk routine.

"Aw," she whined, "does ickle baby clown-face not like the mean old Bella…?"

"No, ickle baby clown-face fucking hates Bella and is going to personally hand her black heart to her on a plate!" the Joker yelled, rolling and drawing his pistol. Bellatrix obviously wasn't expecting a gun, and didn't duck when he aimed a shotgun at her.

He fired.

Bellatrix fell backwards, a hole blasted in her chest. It wasn't a totally fatal wound, although it was obvious terminal, as the Joker approached her, and he smiled.

"You look terrible," he told her.

She spat at him, the gob hitting his face. He ignored it, and knelt down beside her.

"Why so serious, Bella Lugosi?" he asked. He flicked out his knife and grabbed her chin, before cutting into the flesh. She screamed but he held her fast, and then he cut her other cheek, and let her go.

"You sick rat _bastard!!_!" she screamed.

"Aw, come now, Bella," he said, smiling at her. "I can't take all of the credit – you're the one who got me on to these Glasgow smiles…"

And then, the recognition in her eyes. It was perfect. And the, suddenly, she expired.

He blinked.

She was dead.

He had avenged Hermione.

For a long moment, he knelt there, looking at the corpse of Bella Lestrange, and thinking, 'what if I jack it all in now?'

But he knew full well that he wouldn't, not really. There was still too much to do, too much fun to be had. The bombs were set, and he had the detonator.

He stood up, blinked, and walked towards the exit, stopping only to press the detonator button.

The explosion was drowned out by the Muggles who suddenly surrounded him.

--

Later, in Grimmauld Place, he sat back and let his joy wash over him. Anarchy ruled, and he loved it. He had killed Bella Lestrange, avenged the woman he loved – quite frankly, he thought he needed a drink just to calm himself down! This was a brilliant day!

So caught up in this he was that he didn't notice the arrival of his new Owl at first; when he did notice it, he took the letter off leisurely, and read the writing as quickly as he could. It was about twenty to midnight by this time.

_Dear Ron/The Joker/Whatever you're calling yourself._

_Hogwarts is fighting back. Do you want to come? It's right now so you'd better hurry, You Know Who's attacking at Midnight._

The Joker looked at the time, and back to the letter.

_Hoping to see you._

_Luna Lovegood._

_P.S. Ginny says well done at the Ministry, your Mother just sobs whenever we mention you, your Father gives a tight smile, Fred and George laugh whenever they hear about it, and Bill Charlie and Percy ignore me whenever I bring it up. Harry's still mad at you. We killed the Horcrux (hope I spelled that right). I think that's everything._

_P.P.S. Please bring an assault rifle or two. I like them._

_P.P.P.S. Hope I haven't been too long winded._

He laughed out loud at that. Luna Lovegood – what a card!

Card…!

He grabbed a pack of cards from his desk, ran for the cupboard where he kept his weaponry, and grabbed a whole load of pistols, bombs and one AK-47 for Luna, then he picked up a random vase, took out his wand and said "_Portus_."

A moment later, he was on his way.


	7. The Battle of Hogwarts: Part I

**Midnight, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

The Death Eaters marched up to the gate, slowly, with a sense of righteous purpose. Mulciber, Dolohov, Rookwood, Macnair, countless others… the Dark Lord was still seeking Madam Lestrange, who could not be found yet; although rumours abounded that she had been killed; but no matter.

Hogwarts would burn tonight.

As the little army of Death Eaters marched towards the main door, they were surprised to see the door open, and a single figure face them; a figure dressed in a suit with a long coat, wearing face makeup. This man held various metal devices that looked vaguely like weapons in his hands, and as the Death Eaters approached him, he looked up.

"A friend of mine," he shouted at them, "once said that Muggle stuff doesn't work in Hogwarts."

The Death Eaters ignored him and raised their wands, ready to strike him down. He raised his own weaponry, and suddenly a hail of lead flew into the ranks of Death Eaters, and they fell asunder in confusion.

"Somehow, I don't think she ever thought of these!" the Joker laughed, as he emptied the first set of guns, and drew out his Bazooka...

--

**Ten minutes earlier.**

When he arrived, Kingsley Shacklebolt was making plans.

"Hello!" Luna Lovegood smiled, waving at him. He waved back, but he kept walking towards the main podium where Shacklebolt was. The various people turned to look at him, none of them showing any surprise or wonder at who he was (obviously, the family had been blabbing) but his father looked shocked and his mother looked away from him.

"Hiya all," he said. "Heard there was a party brewin'."

"What are _you_ doing here?" his father demanded of him.

"Well sorry, pops," he said, sarcastically, "but I heard I was needed. Heard, more specifically, that there were Death Eaters around."

"There will be soon," Remus Lupin said. "We have until midnight top plan our battle..."

"Bah," the Joker said, waving his hand. "I hate plans. I mean look at me - I'm the Clown Prince of Chaos..."

"What?!" Mr Weasley yelled. "What did you say?!"

"I'm," the Joker said, slowly, emphasising every word, "the _Clown Prince_ of _Chaos_. Means Anarchy is my thing. And I hate plans - I really do."

"Alright then, Mr Clown Prince," said Kingsley, walking down the podium and holding up his hand to silence an angry Mr Weasley - although his own voice suggested he was at least as angry as his friend. "What do you suggest we do to stop the Death Eaters then?"

The Joker looked right at him, and smiled - it was a grotesque thing, which quite frankly scared the shit out of Kingsley.

"Leave that to me." he said. "Just make sure you keep the kiddie winkles back from the action; it'll get kinda messy..."

--

"Messy" was not the word. The Joker was going all out on this one - and that was without the wand. He had emptied almost every weapon he had (apart from one assault rifle he had given to Luna Lovegood on request) and then using his bazooka on Giants. The fact that from the windows every single fully trained wizard was sending a dozen speels a minute out to cover him was helpful of course, and he appreciated it, but (quite frankly) he felt they were kinda cramping his style.

He knew that he could only delay them a short while, so when he finally ran out of violent Muggle weapons (apart from his knife) he took out his wand, killed the next Death Eater he saw, and legged it up the stairs from the entrance hall, dozens of Death Eaters following him; only to be taken out by a swarm of Order of the Pheonix members and a handful of teachers. On the way up, he passed Harry, who ignored him (fine) and

He ducked a green jet of light and ran into up a set of stairs as a half dozen Death Eaters followed. He turned a corner, only to be pushed roughly aside - as a figure in a black and red quartered jumpsuit emptied a hail of bullets into the charging villains.

"Ha!" he yelled as Luna Lovegood - fully dressed in her Harlequin gear - turned and smiled at him. "Looking good!"

"Thanks," she said. "That was quite fun."

"That ain't the half of it," the Joker promised. "Come with me."

--

At the top of the Grand Staircase, he looked down on a hoard of fighters at the foot of it.

"We expected some people on our side to die, right?" he said.

"I think so," Luna confirmed.

"Right," he smiled, and he held up a canister of C4. "So no one will notice if a few more die, will they?"

Luna grinned and he dropped the canister, which sailed downwards gracefully, and landed with a bang.

It exploded a second later, to hoots of laughter from the Joker and Luna.

"This is too much fun!" the Joker laughed. "Just too much!"

"It isn't over yet," Luna said. "Come on - I wanna see if Giants like C4!"


End file.
